


Colors

by orphan_account



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: BUt i promise it will get better later on, That is all, an average kid yknow, artist! AU, but plot twist!!! he's going blind, it just starts out really crappy, maybe other side pairings???, newt is a sarcastic asshole artist, not a nerd, not exactly popular, this was originally gonna be based off of llamas with hats, thomas is an average, you must read if you wanna know more lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:43:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3091403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt always thought he saw the world in more beauty, more color than anyone else. Who would have thought he was seeing in black and white all along?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> oh lordy

     Color. That was always the thing. Color.  Because as far as Newt was concerned, there was an infinite amount of colors. Blue, for example. Your favorite color could never simply be  _blue,_ because blue isn't one color. There's deep, navy, baby blue, and so many others in between. His mother had always told him his obsession with color was ridiculous. She'd always told him to shut up about his art and do something  _normal,_ be a  _normal_ kid. Painting  _was_ normal to him, though. He was never big on football or movies. That was just him. 

     He never understood what people had against his art-it didn't affect them. It was simply him expressing himself. Still, the boys on the sidewalk would scoff when he went out to buy groceries, or call him a freak. His town was terrible for someone like him. Someone different. They were all about tradition. Newt did whatever he did to not follow them, even if he never meant to. He never would have thought the vendors on the street refusing to sell him bread would make such an insurmountable difference in his life, though he should have, because as he'd known since he was 6 years old, there was always a surprise around the corner.

     He was starting to wonder how he always landed himself in these  _stupid_ situations, staring at his bedroom roof and flinched when the door shot open slamming on the wall behind it. With no words, his father walked into the room, pulling him off of his bed, grabbing his ear and dragging him down the hall.

     "Sit."  Mr. Isaac's voice was sharp and he pulled Newt into the living area, half-throwing, half-dropping him onto the sofa while he crossed his arms, gritting his teeth. After shifting for a moment, mostly for the purpose of stalling, knowing nothing good could come out of this, he kicked his feet up, sitting them on the coffee table in front of him. As expected, his father shoved them down, gritting his teeth, and Newt could practically see fumes coming out of his ears. 

     "Dad?" His voice was airy and expectant as he tipped his chin up to look at the man above him. He got his height from him, but other than that, Newt had no resemblance to him at all. Blinking innocently and  turning to look at his sister, Rachel beside him, looking severely bored, he raised a brow at his dad. "What's wrong?" 

     "Don't play stupid with me." The man growled, making Newt scoff in response. This, of course, earned a glare from Mr. Isaac, and an eye-roll from Rachel. Typical. "This has to stop, Newt! It's costing the family now! You know I love you, son, but your... _works_ are beginning to be a problem to our family. I'm sorry to be cruel, I really am," The man shook his head, and Newt half smirked at the statement.  _No you're not._ He thought to himself, almost saying so out loud. "But this is the 3rd time somebody has refused to do business with our family. They see us as the insane family, and it's your fault!"

     The blond started opening his mouth, a sarcastic retort on his lips, only to be interrupted by Rachel, a groan falling from her mouth.

     "Do I really have to be here? I mean, if all you're going to do is insult Newt, is there really any point in-"  A look from both parents stopped her from finishing her sentence, and she blinked, nodding. Always the obedient one.

     "What your father is trying to say, dear," Newt's mother spoke this time, laying a hand on her husbands shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. "Is that your...uniqueness has begun to be a real problem. I know you must be thinking it was just a loaf of bread, it's no big deal, but this will continue. And we can't continue on here unless you make some changes, perhaps make some friends." The way she said it almost seemed like a question, and Newt shook his head.

     Frustrated, Newt gave an exasperated look/ "No, mum. You  _know_ I can't do that. I'm sorry, my brain doesn't work like yours do." 

     Almost immediately, the woman hushed him, throwing her hands in the air in defense.

     "I know, dear. I'm not asking you to. You don't need to change. We just can't go on  _here_." She empathized, shifting her eyes between her children, looking for a response. The two siblings gaped at each other, a question in both of their eyes before they turned back to their parents. It wasn't until their father walked forward, wrapping an arm around their mother, who was praftically shaking, that Rachel spoke. _  
_

"Wait, so that means..." Furrowing her brow, she trailed off, clearly not looking forward to what was coming next.

     In response, Newt's father only nodded, almost grimly. Understanding what was implied, shock ran through Newt's body, though it wasn't exactly a disappointed one. He couldn't think of anything he would like more than getting out of here. He looked up to his parents, almost smiling. Seeing his half-smile, Rachel grit her teeth, whacking him on the shoulder.

     "Where...exactly are we going?" He bit his lip, watching his parents exchange a glance. Despite their kind act, this was probably the nicest thing they'd ever done for him, even if it wasn't necessarily _for_ him.

     "America." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! xx


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eh. Still mostly an introduction Chapter, nothing happens. In the next few chapters, some things should happen. Just getting into the character a bit.

**Four Months Afterwards**

     He couldn't stop shaking his leg. He was practically bouncing up and down on the last quarter of his flight. He was never one to get excited much, but this was big for him. He was getting out. It didn't really feel  _real_ until they stepped out of the plane, and he realized that the shit back in England that had been going on his entire life was gone. 

     Of course, there was no guarantee that everything in the world, all of his problems were just going to disappear. That was crazy, but he had a chance to turn things around here. Americans were never quick to judge, from what he'd always thought. They were the ones who drowned their sorrows in greasy fries and burgers, surely they wouldn't hate him for painting. Maybe they would hate him for not driving them to the nearest McDonalds, though. That, he could live with, as long as he didn't have to eat it.

     It took them about an hour after leaving their plane to get their luggage and to get out of the airport, and when they stepped outside, Newt was shocked. His town in Britan was always extremely old-fashioned. They were never big on technology or anything like that, and when he looked around, it felt like he had stepped into the future. Everything was...shiny, big. There were people everywhere, but they hardly took notice of each other. Of course, most of it was airport buzz of people on vacation, but the way the entire process flowed together was so...peaceful. And the air smelled fresh, no doubt a result of the row of trees planted down the walkway, swaying gently in the air. That was the great thing about being an artist. You saw the beauty in everything, no matter how terrible it was. Sometimes he felt sad for people who couldn't see like he did, because the sad things were never as sad, the happy things more happy. But when he watched his sister being happy without that, and he knew she didn't need assistance. He liked that.

     He felt his father nudge him from the side, and he scanned the area one last time, blinking and looking over, furrowing his brow. His father raised his finger, pointing towards the Taxi van sitting by the curb, and began dragging his suitcases behind him towards it. Newt followed suit, taking his suitcases onto the shelf in the van.

     On the drive to the car dealership, Newt spent the entire time gaping at the scenery. There wasn't much conversation until they'd arrived at the dealership and, after getting their own car (and Newt's father having a fit over the steering wheel being on the wrong side) they started driving to the house. This was the first time Newt and Rachel had seen it, though there parents had already came to look at it 3 times. They'd came prepared, with a lot of their furniture pre-bought, and Newt's parents had furnished the rooms for the most part. He was excited to see the house. He'd never moved before, in all his 16 years, and seeing your new home for the first time is nerve-racking.

     Zoned out, he was surprised when Rachel hit his leg, which was bouncing up and down as he bit his lip. He raised a brow in question, and his sister sighed in response, holding his leg down. She gave an exaggerated eyeroll, looking out her window.

     "It's annoying." She pursed her lips. "Why are you so... _giddy_ anyways?" In response, Newt almost immediately snorted.

     "It's  _exciting,_ Rach. We're in Colorado! We're going to  _live_ here. 24 hours ago, we lived in Britan. You know that's a little crazy." He chuckled. He wasn't even exactly sure why he was so happy, just the excitement and good vibes of moving had gotten to him. He was sure he would get over it soon.

     "And it's nice here." He trailed off, looking to the mountains outside his windows. He would paint them some day. They were too...unique not to. He could see himself carving out the sun, resting between the peaks as it sets, it's light reflecting on the canals. He already had the image in his mind. Someday.

     The rest of the ride was quite quiet, listening to his parents attempt to make small conversation, but it was nothing that required answers- _At least they have good weather today, You guys are gonna love this house, etc.-_ So him and Rachel both just stayed quiet, and eventually, the two adults gave up. Newt wasn't trying to be rude or anything, but all he really wanted was to get to his house and settle in. It wasn't like they really cared to talk to him, or hear his input. They never really did.

     They weren't necessarily  _bad_ parents, but they grew up in the same place he had. They were traditional. They never said it, of course, but Newt knew that they were just a little disappointed in him. He was never anything like them. His father was tough, an average male. Strong. He was a shop worker, with a crappy garage band that he quit when Newt was five, in order to make room for him to do his art. (Or, as he said, "to become a better father", even if nothing else had changed.) His mom was more like him, you could say, but in reality, it was the opposite. She was a health freak. She had a health bakery back in England, which attached to their house. She never got along with him very well. She didn't support his art. She'd always said he wouldn't get anything out of it, and that being lazy could never do anything for him. She never understood that he wasn't looking to get anything out of it. He just...enjoyed it. That was it. No matter what they did to him, though, he was still their son, and even if they completely disowned him, which wasn't out of the question, he would still love them. That was Newt in a nutshell. He was gentle. That, at least, wouldn't change. Rachel, he would never doubt that she loved him, even if she wouldn't say it. She was like their dad, he thought, only not as hard. She played guitar, and always seemed to have a crowd to hang around. She didn't take any shit, and he liked that. Overall, they were siblings, and he couldn't feel unloved by her if he tried.

     Newt snapped his head up as the car slowed it's roll, taken out of his thoughts. A one story house loomed in front of the car, causing his eyes to widen as he caught his breath. He wanted to ask  _Is that it?!_ but he knew that was a stupid question. It wasn't like they were gonna pop in on Miley for tea and a chat.

     It took a minute for Rachel to figure out where they were, and she let out a humorless laugh, pulling her headphones out, giving a short nod of approval. When the lock gave out, Newt and Rachel were the first to throw their doors open and step out of the car. Rachel stood still for a while, just studying it until their parents stepped out of the car. Both siblings mouthed a "wow" when they got to the door. The moving van had already left, and their extre suitcases that they'd had shipped out were laying in the door when they opened it. At first, none of them knew what to do, really, and stood still, until Rachel, the teen that she was, broke the silence.

     "Well," She started, stepping into the kitchen and flipping the lights on. "Who gets the basement?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is much appreciated :*


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F'yeah school!

     In case you were wondering, he got the basement.

     It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. He didn't care which bedroom he got, as long as he had room to paint, but watching Rachel to storm off in anger was funny. You could take her out of Britan, but that didn't mean she would change. It kinda felt good. He understood why she was angry. The room was huge. He had an empty room on the floor-which could probably be used to hold movie nights, if he had friends-and in the closest right side corner, there was a door to the floors bathroom. To his left side, there was a half kitchen. He probably wouldn't use that. His bedroom was off in the back. There wasn't much room in it, but all of his painting supplies could go in the living space. Overall, it was kind of perfect for him. He could sneak food down to the fridge, and he'd never have to see his family. Perfect.

     Well, not exactly true. School ruined that notion. His mom had gotten a job at the school as the Health and Phys. Ed teacher. Suffice to say, he wasn't taking that class. He'd already gotten his Phys. Ed mark. Sorry mum. He even got out of getting a ride with her on the first day, because  _how do you expect us to fit in if we don't get to see other students?_ God bless Rachel for that, and God bless his mom for not knowing that nothing happens on school buses. Ever.

     So that explained why he was sitting on a sweaty, hot bus that had forgotten to turn their heaters off from the morning chill. He was crammed onto the window by two teenage boys sitting on the seat with him, even though there was an empty seat ahead of him. He didn't really mind. They weren't talking to him, so he was fine with sitting still, hoping nobody tried to make conversation. He pulled out his schedule, scanning over his routine for the day.

     He was still kind of pissed about taking Visual Arts class. He knew he wouldn't like it. It wasn't  _art_ in those classes, it was just following directions. You couldn't be creative, and independent. He was used to walking past something and saying  _I want to paint that._ He hated being told what to paint. Let alone the other types of Art, like pottery. It wasn't like he couldn't do them, he just didn't like it. Art is supposed to be free. The only reason he took the class was because The Arts classes were always good places to meet people, and the only other one he was willing to do was Foods. Rachel almost punched him when he was about to sign up for foods, because "You'd be stupid not to do it. It's an easy mark for you!".  He ended up taking the class, evidently, at least looking forward to silently judging people who mixed their paints. _  
_

His other classes weren't bad. Boring, obviously, but it was school. What could you expect? He shared a Science class with Rachel, even though she was the year below him, at the end of the day. Overall, his schedule didn't look too bad, as long as he didn't have to talk in class. Then he could avoid the shocked responses from people of _You're British?!_ He'd done good with it so far.

     Newt almost released a sigh when the bus pulled into the parking lot. For a central area, the ride to the school was longer than you'd expect, and he almost screamed when the boys beside him stood up, and there was no more sweaty skin being pressed to him. It felt as gross as it sounded.

     He pushed himself up quickly, muttering an apology to the few people he cut off, rushing forwards to Rachel's row, waiting for her to stand up. When she put her headphones in her bag and began to stand up, Newt instinctively grabbed her wrist, pulling her up, earning a groan. 

     "Jesus, Newt!" She shouted, wide eyed. "What's with you?" 

     Newt didn't give an answer, just pulled her off of the bus, and spoke when they were far enough away from the bus so people couldn't hear him.

     "We need to blend in or something. It's the first day, people will be in groups, talking to their friends. Just...walk with me. I don't want anybody to ask questions." He released her wrist, glancing up at the school, and turning back to Rachel when she gave an annoyed grunt.

     "Gross. Please, Newt, tell me you're not gonna hang around me the entire time. Then we'll just be those annoying exchange sibling that everybody hates." She paused, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "Because if you do, I swear to God I'm never talking to you again." 

     "Shut up, no. Just for today. I don't want to have to talk to a group of people. That's weird." He shook his head, weaving through the small groups.

     "Oh, would you just calm down, you anti-social loser. Just..." She pressed her lips together, scanning the crowd, grinning when her eyes landed on two people in the back of the crowd, a girl and a boy. The girl was leaning on the building, holding her hand over her mouth, laughing.

     "Rachel, no. Don't even think abou-" He was cut off by his sister, a wide smile spread across her face, and this time, it was her grabbing  _his_ wrist, pulling him through the other students to the two.

     "We should go talk to them." She told him innocently, a bounce in her step.

     "Rachel, stop it. I'm not being anti-social. I want to make friends, but on my own terms. I hate trying to make conversation with people that I don't connect with." He told her, pulling his wrist away, causing Rachel to whip around, rolling her eyes.

     "You're so boring, it's painful. Whatever, you can stand alone, be alone. I'm going to talk to them." She let out a puff of air, walking towards the students, leaving Newt to stand alone between three circles of students. He pulled out, grabbing his phone from his pocket and checking the time. There was a second when he thought about the time back in Britan and shrugged, pushing his way into the school. It wasn't as crazy inside, but there were still students milling about. Most of them, like him, were going solo, heading to their classes so they could get good seats. He grinned, looking around at them.

      _These are my people._ He snorted at the thought, pulling his schedule out and looking across the Geography row, to find his first room.

     He would be fine as long as he didn't have to talk.

 

\--

 

     Lunch was stupid. He had to talk in all of his classes as a "class introduction" or whatever, and  _surprise, surprise!_ There were tons of girls, and even a few guys who basically swooned at the thought of a British guy. Okay. Cool. 

     He had been hoping to eat lunch with Rachel, so he could avoid being bombarded with questions, and having to be cheap and phony with his answers. Six people had come up to him at the end of his classes, all saying the same thing. "If you don't have anybody to sit with at lunch break, you can always come by my table." 

     Not that Newt minded sitting with people. He was excited to come here to get away from sitting alone, but they all wanted to sit with him for the wrong reasons. They thought he was endearing, or whatever, and he was willing to bet some of them wanted to get in his pants just because of an accent. He didn't have the heart to tell them they were barking up the wrong tree.

     It felt like something out of a cliche, stupid movie when he sat down. There was a hoard of six or seven people who sat with him, making cheesy conversation, trying to seem sweet, but he didn't really care. They asked phony questions, he gave phony answers. He caught sight of Rachel walking in, alone. When she saw him, too, she raised a confused brow at first, and when he shrugged in response, she mirrored it, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up, walking to a different table and sitting down. He wanted to go sit with her, but something told him she wasn't sitting alone either, and that she was completely fine. 

     For the next 40 minutes, he sat pretending to be flattered, and he'd never been more relieved when the bell rang and he could head to Maths class.

     If there was one thing that was certain, he was gonna need to make some friends, because he wasn't gonna be a boytoy for the rest of his high-school career. The only problem would be finding people he was actually compatible with. All he wanted now was to get home. Maybe he'd even ride with his mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. That was some bs. Even so, feedback appreciated! Thanks for reading, you guys. 
> 
> Don't forget, you're always welcome to leave any questions, suggestions, or whatever else you'd like. I do read and consider every comment! Thanks for your support.


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

     The next week or so went on the same way the first day had-Awful. Newt did what he could to ignore his "admirers", as Rachel had put them, and sometimes it worked, but for the most part, nothing changed. He almost cried tears of joy by the time the fuss of the new year died down, and his fans started to lose interest and back onto some other poor bugger. Probably some jock, or something. He would have been grateful to change from his usual lunch routine to being served _as_  the food, so he really didn't care. 

     Not that he necessarily hated the  _people_ in the crowd, but the crowd itself was annoying. The celebrity scene wasn't his thing. He'd much prefer eating with his sister, and whatever crowd she found looming around this time, which was exactly what he did, and he was completely shocked in Rachel's choice of friends.

     Why? Well, one thing was that they were actually her  _friends_. Rachel usually just hung out with whoever would let her talk to them without punching them. It was a different crowd every day. This time, she'd actually built a pretty good friendship with the same two kids she'd tried to get him to talk to on the first day-Brenda and Aris. That was good for her, though. Newt was glad for her, it just made him extremely uncomfortable that he got along with her friends. Maybe even  _liked_ them. That had never happened before.

     He wouldn't really go so far as to call them his own friends, but when he had nobody else for the time being, he wouldn't complain about talking to them.

     That being said, mooching off of his sister's friends was pathetic, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was going to have to be  _outgoing_ to make some friends. He was fine with that, so long as he could do it in art class-the people there seemed nice, though it had the most potheads. Really though, his parents couldn't complain. After all, it was  _their_ fault if he made friends with a pothead. They were the ones who chose to move to Colorado, where Rachel said the "chillest people on the planet" lived. Newt couldn't argue, even if he had no idea what she meant by it.

 

\--

 

     As usual, art was boring, predictable, but easy enough for him to pass. Probably. They were currently working on realistic drawings, simply using pencils. They had to pick a building-a tower, parliament building, whatever-and recreate it in a different setting, for creativity marks. The real project was the details on the building, and paying attention to the shadows, and angles of them. He was being cheesy, re-imagining Buckingham Palace in New York City, which, if the teacher asked, was a metaphor for him. That would earn him some brownie points, even if it was bullshit. In all reality, he'd painted the Palace before, and he knew it's curves and shape well enough to focus on his shading, rather than looking to figure out what it looked like. He would need the extra help using pencil over paint.

     He'd just finished drawing the outline of the New York skyline when he heard a grunt beside him, causing him to involuntarily scrunch his nose up, turning his head to the left. The boy beside him had viciously started erasing his drawing of the CN Tower-classy-and starting over. Newt watched him for a few seconds as he pressed onto the pencil full strength, getting frustrated when he couldn't successfully shade it. Newt sucked in a breath before deciding to comment on it.

     "Try dragging your pencil on it's side. It's much softer, easier to shade." He finished, unwrinkling his nose.

     First, Newt saw the boy gritting his teeth, turning to look at him before lowering his pencil, looking frustrated, and Newt only stared at him for a moment, a lump appearing in his throat. The first thing he noticed were his eyes. They were brown, a light color, like an oak tree. There were flecks of emerald scattered through them, and a bright gold color, like sand shimmered in the light. They were almost coppery, and Newt found it hard to swallow looking at them, until he realized that they were looking back at him, and their owner, a boy with olive skin and chocolate locks, was asking him a question.

     "And are you some sort of art prodigy to tell me that?" He gave him a slybrow, looking slightly overconfident.

     That confidence shattered when Newt pressed his lips together, nodding distantly.

     "Actually, yeah." He made sure to put some extra sarcasm in the comment, bringing his pencil down too and waiting for his response.

     Newt couldn't help grinning when he saw the boys features-eyebrows, eyes, mouth-drop. He nodded slowly, raising his eyes again and peering over to look at Newt's sheet. He bit his lip, shaking his head.

     "Doesn't look like you're much of a prodigy to me, from what you have so far. No offence, but being just some kid who can draw doesn't make you a prodigy. It's not even a great drawing, judging on it now." He retorted, a little more polite this time, causing a large grin to spread across Newt's mouth.

     "No, it's not, and I can promise you, the finished piece won't be  _great_ either. This isn't my forte." He stopped, waiting for an answer. When confusion passed over the other boy's face, Newt obliged, elaborating. "I prefer to draw with a brush. In color. I'm a painter. I just heard your groans, and I hoped to God they were because of your art." He broke it down, nodding when realization came upon the brunette. He watched as he stayed silent for a moment, and turned back to his page before he answered.

     "Well that's stupid. They shouldn't even let you in this class." This confused Newt, and he wrinkled his brow to show it. "You're obviously going to get a good mark. It's stupid." Newt scoffed, making Mr. Peppersmith whip his head towards the two boys, giving Newt the stink-eye. The blonde swallowed, lowering his voice to a mutter and continuing to draw.

     "That's not necessarily true. I'm a painter. That's it, that's where all of my artistic ability is focused. That doesn't mean I'm going to make a clay bust of Obama. You'd probably be better at sculpting things than me." He shrugged, moving his pencil to the corner of the page to draw a walkway.

     The other boy was quiet for a moment as Mr. Peppersmith walked past them, and put his pencil on the page, restarting. Newt noticed that he followed his suggestion, dragging his pencil smoothly on the paper. When the man was gone, he gave Newt a response.

     "Whatever. All I know is that right now, I'm seriously regretting my entire life, because I took this class for an easy mark and I'm failing. If you're giving me help on  _this_ when it  _isn't your forte,_ you're obviously a little bit better than me." His tone was matter-of-fact. Newt couldn't resist responding with sarcasm.

     "Ah yes, I've also mastered the art of how to hold a pencil. Sorry to have forgotten that." His voice was practically dripping, causing his conversational partner to glare at him. Newt, without deciding to do so, gave him a wink, holding a hand phone to his ear and mouthing  _call me._  The brunette shook his head and went back to his art, Newt following suit, and they stayed in silence for a few minutes. Newt thought back on the conversation, wanting to kick himself for being so smirky. He didn't know where it had come from, but he couldn't un-say the words. Even if he could, he wasn't so sure he wanted to.

     "Hey, dude?" The boy looked up at Newt again, looking confused.

     Newt blinked, turning towards him again.

     "Sorry, I'm, uh, kinda out of the loop, but are you that freaky new kid the entire school was talking about? I've never seen you before now." He angled his body to the side a bit.

     "Um," Newt stuttered, and almost punched himself. "I don't know. I mean, if they called me freaky, then yeah, probably me." He shrugged, chewing the inside of his cheek.

     "No, no!" He answered, shaking his head, almost violently. "Not freaky like...freaky, freaky like,  _wicked."_ He finished, nodding. Newt couldn't help the snort that came from him at the last word, making the brunette look at him in mock offence.

     "Wicked?" He raised a brow.

     "Yeah."

     "Who says wicked anymore?" Newt asked incredulously, a laugh still on his lips.

     "Look, buddy, I don't know how you did it in Britan, or wherever you came from," He exaggerated on Britan. "But you live in America now. You live by our rules." He told him, a half grin on his face. Before Newt could answer, a girl with jet-black hair sitting beside the boy cut in.

     "Nobody says wicked here either, Tom is just an idiot." She smiled, patting the brunette's shoulder. "But I'm sure you already figured that out." She gave Newt a thumbs up, straightening in her seat.

     Newt paused for a minute, making sure she was talking to him, and his grin grew wider.

     "I had my suspicions." He shrugged, and 'Tom' threw his hands in the air, a silent way of asking  _'what the hell, dude?!'_

     The girl's smile spread ear-to-ear, and she reached her hand out for a high-five from Newt.

     "Good job, Greenie." Newt wrinkled a brow at the nickname, but he shrugged it off when the girl continued talking, "'m Teresa. This is Tom-Thomas, I guess I should say." She pointed at the boy. "We kinda suck. Hope you don't mind..?" She trailed off, asking a question of him, obviously.

     "Newt." He finished for her. Her and Thomas both sat for a moment, nodding and milling over the name. He watched Teresa open her mouth to respond, when they saw Peppersmith walking towards them, anger on his face.

     They didn't talk again after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> that is all i have to say  
> Feedback appreciated! Thank you for reading!
> 
> P.S. what is Newt and Teresa's ship name bc it's important  
> Not really. But I wanna know bc brotp


	5. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parents, man. They're a drag.

     He was greeted nicely when he walked into English class at the end of the day. Kind of. It was a nice thought.

     "Oh, wow, it's Wicked Boy! Cool." A voice called from the back corner of the class when he walked in, sitting down. "Hey, Newt!" He felt a ball of paper hit his shoulder from behind him, and he looked back to see Teresa waving at him vigorously. He grinned and gave her a wave back, turning back around and setting his books down. A second paper wad hit his shoulder, and he sighed, a chuckle on his lips while turning around again.

     "Come sit with me!" She whisper-screamed, her icy eyes almost bugging out of her skull. When he only raised a single brow in response, she threw her hands up in, what? Confusion? Anger? She pushed herself up from her seat, looking at him with a hand on her hip.

     "Do you want me to get on my knees and start begging? Because I swear, I will." He initially stuck to his silence, only grinning to show her she'd heard him, but gave it up when she actually started to get on her knees. He stood up from his desk, and Teresa did a victory fist pump when he started walking towards her, and she pushed up from the floor.

     "Thank God," She told him, sitting back in her seat when he plopped his bag on the one beside it. When he sat, she curled up to him, acting like she was in a horror movie. "I don't know any of these people. I'm so alone in here. I had no idea any of these people even existed before this year." She half-whispered, half-hissed.

     Newt squinted at her, wrinkling his nose and pulling back his head to look at her.

     "You didn't know my name until, like, three hours ago." He almost smirked, turning towards the front of the class, catching Teresa roll her eyes in his peripheral vision.

     "Yeah, but you're kinda cool. I like the way you blatantly insulted Tom when you'd just met him. That's someone worth hanging out with." A snort accompanied her when she finished, and she gave Newt a thumbs up. "Plus, your hair's cool. It's all fluffy and...stuff." 

     Try as he might, Newt couldn't avoid the grin that fell on his lips. Without responding, he crossed his legs on his seat, watching Ms. Cameron walk through the room. He didn't know if the way he was acting around Teresa was rude, but he didn't want to seem clingy when he'd just met her. Even he knew that was weird. He couldn't be clingy if he wanted to make friends, especially with Teresa. He might have been imagining it, which was definitely an option, but Teresa-and Thomas, he supposed-could be possible friend material. He just had to make sure he played his cards right.

 

\--

 

     After his class ended and the bell rang, Newt was almost immediately approached by his mom. It was like she was a vulture, or something. Waiting for him. It was terrifying. There were still students heading out of the classroom in a steady flow when he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder, causing him to flinch.

     "You're going on the bus tonight. We have meetings tonight, so I'll be late getting home. I called your father, he's going to drop off some sort of food for dinner when he gets off, and I'm going to go out with him, alright? We haven't had a night with just the two of us in a while. I'm not sure when we'll get home, but I need to make sure you're okay being alone for a while." She finished, perching a brow up.

     "Uh...Yeah, I'm fine. Why, where's Rachel going?" He furrowed his brows, pulling over to the wall, arms crossed.

     "She's gone to her friends house for the night. Brenda, I believe?" Newt nodded strictly, still showing confusion on his face. "Just make sure she gets back by eight thirty if we're not home." She continued, pulling back, almost ready to end the conversation.

     "No, yeah, I'll be fine. I've been wanting to paint the garden for a while anyway. I could get a good head start on-" He was cut off by his mother shaking her head.

     "That's...no, I don't wan't you painting when we're gone. Not today. Eric is coming to visit your father for the first time since we moved out here next week. Just for the next few days, could you not do your art? I don't want the house to stink like paint." She gave a polite smile. A fake smile.

     The blond started gritting his teeth, shaking his head slightly.

     "That's stupid, mom. I'll be outside anyways. What, do you not want me to damage the grass, or something?" He rolled his eyes, turning to leave when his mum caught him by the wrist.

     "Just...Don't do it, please. Do something normal. Be rebellious. Throw a party," That made him snort. "Get illegally drunk! I don't care! I'm not saying you have to give up painting, but please, normalize yourself. I don't want you to suffer another year of you not fitting in." She was almost pleading with him, but the look in her eyes wasn't pity. It was probably closer to fear, and when he caught sight of them, he shook his head, almost cracking his teeth with how hard he was gritting them. 

     With a burst of anger, Newt yanked his wrist out, trying his hardest to keep steady eye contact with her. His fists almost started shaking at his side and he shook his head. Slowly, he forced his jaw apart and barked out a humorless laugh.

     "You mean  _you_ can't handle another year of not fitting in." He glared, not able to help it, spinning away and storming towards the doors. He didn't know why he'd blown up. It was one tiny conversation, but he wasn't going to say he didn't enjoy it. He'd just gotten so tired of his parents not letting him do something he loved. He'd be an idiot to just accept it, but this was the first time he'd ever said anything about it. He'd almost cleared the hall when Thomas and Teresa approached him from the side. He wasn't sure why they did, but he didn't argue. They both stayed silent until Newt tipped his chin up to show that he saw them.

     "What was that?" Thomas was the first one to speak, flicking his head over his shoulder to look at Newt's mom behind them, staring dumbfounded at the three of them. "I mean, you seemed pretty angry. You got some beef with the Phys. Ed teacher? She owe you money?" He said, only half joking.

     "Because if she is, I can probably dig up some dirt on her. Can anybody say blackmail?" Teresa finished for him, throwing her hands open. Newt tipped one corner of his mouth up, but shook his head no at the same time.

     "Thanks, guys, but no thanks. I have all the dirt I'd need to blackmail her, anyway." He shrugged, breaking his gaze and turning to go outside. Thomas and Teresa both turned to look at each other, confusion on their faces. Newt looked at them, chuckling at their confusion.

     "She's my mum. Hence," He pointed a finger at Teresa briskly. "The hair." 

     Teresa nodded, and the three stepped outside. Newt caught sight of Rachel walking with Brenda across the parking lot, laughing, and turned around.

     "Anyway, guys, thanks for, uh, offering to help blackmail my mother, but I've gotta roll. Have a...good night." He told them abruptly, walking backwards and waving, listening to the two stutter short, confused goodbyes. He turned back around the right way, jogging over to Rachel and grabbing her arm, causing his sister to blink in surprise.

     "Rach! Hi, Brenda, by the way, but Rachel, if mum calls and starts asking about me or anything don't answer her, okay? Just hang up. Okay? Good. Bye! Have fun with your...stuff." He smiled over Rachel's sputtering and left her, stepping over to his bus.

     He felt kind of guilty about leaving Thomas and Teresa so quickly. _that_ could easily be seen as rude, but he convinced himself he was overthinking it. 

 _Besides._ He reasoned with himself.  _You have nothing to be worried about, anyway. They_ aren't  _your friends. Just some really nice people. Always you, getting too attached to anybody who's nice to you at all._ He shook his head, shrugging it off. There were now three different people in the parking lot staring at him, as confused as could be, plus his mum back in the building. He was a self-proclaimed mess, obviously, but using that to confuse people was one of his favorite things to do. His parents couldn't stop him doing  _that,_ at least.

 

\--

     

     The next week, he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, reading  _To Kill A Mockingbird_ for his English class, not really paying attention. He kept having to re-read paragraphs to let them sink in, and eventually, he just gave up. He threw the book on the foot of his bed, flopping onto his pillow. He didn't know if he'd ever been so bored. He was actually contemplating crashing a party, like his mother had said, but decided against it. He wasn't a party person, and even if he was, he wouldn't have wanted to anyways. He wasn't in the mood for getting beat up by some student who was angry at him for crashing their party. 

     His parent's were out again for their Saturday. His dad's best friend, Eric _had_ come for a visit, and they were all out. Rachel was out babysitting with Brenda, for some kid Newt had never heard of, leaving him alone again. Concerning other things, he hadn't talked to Thomas and Teresa much all week, except for in Art, and Teresa still made Newt sit with her in English. Other than that, he hadn't heard from them much, and he was fine with that. He talked to his mum even less. He was still mad at her, and if he was being honest, he liked making her feel guilty. She _should_ have felt guilty. She shouldn't have been upset because he did something he wanted for once. He liked that. He  _didn't_ like being home alone constantly, though.

     Just as he'd gotten up to wander around again, his phone started ringing on the floor beside his bed. He assumed it was Rachel-she had been calling him every 40 minutes or so to ask if he wanted to come with her and Brenda in case he was bored, and he was getting frustrated. He stepped out of his room, into the space outside. His parents had intended for him to use it as a living room, had even put a TV and sofa in it, but he knew and they knew he would use it as a paint room. He had his easel in the corner, and he eyed it for a long moment, but evidently turned away. As mad as he was at his mum still, he wasn't going to make the situation worse by doing exactly what his mum had told him  _not_ to do while Eric was here.

     With his head shaking, Newt turned away, walking up the stairs to the main floor. He stalked through the kitchen, looking for something to eat that didn't have spinach or flax seed in it. 

     After looking through the fridge and cupboards four times, Newt gave up, grabbing a granola bar and walking back down to the basement. He sat on the mini table in his kitchen (which was currently empty) and ate his snack, throwing the wrapper on the table carelessly.

     He unwillingly pushed himself off of the table, stepping back into his room when he heard his phone beeping multiple times over, each with a text message to accompany it. 

     "Rachel..." He mumbled, annoyance laced through his voice. He grabbed his phone from the floor, turning it on to put it on mute. He couldn't help but wrinkle his brow when he read the I.D.-a number he'd never seen before. He was taken aback, and slightly confused. He debated between leaving it or opening them, just to see what it said, and his curiosity won out. He swiped the notification to the right, putting in his password quickly before the white screen opened, making him blink a few times in it's brightness. When his vision adjusted to the light, he scrolled to the top of the messages-there were 13 of them.

 _Have u ever watched the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse?_ He scanned his eyes over the first message, which made him squint at it and shake his head, pausing a moment to blink several times and reading through the other messages.

_They sing about hot dogs at the end of every episode. im here watching it & now I'm really hungry._

_I rly like hot dogs._

_Especially spider dogs, man. They cool._

_Anywaaaaaay_

_Ik hot dogs are always an interesting topic, but I have an important question._ There was a gap in the texts there, and Newt assumed the anon texter had been waiting for his response, but hadn't gotten it.

 _It's Teresa, by the way._ That made sense. Kind of. Newt pressed his lips together, scrolling down.

_But the hot dog stuff was Tom. In case you were wondering._

_S_ _ee? Told u he's an idiot._

_Helloooooo? Blondie? Are u gonna answerererer?_ Newt couldn't help grinning at that, even if it wasn't that funny.

_Tea????????_

_Scones???_

_Answer me! I do really have a question for you!_

The last text had a thumbs down emoji tacked on the end of it, and Newt couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. 

     "Yep..." He muttered to himself. "Really nice people, alright." He shook his head, looking at the screen of his phone and reading the last few messages again. He wasn't sure, but it seemed like the two liked him. Either that, or they were losers, like him, and they would take anybody who would talk to them, but he didn't think that was true. It did cross his mind that it was a little weird that they were trying so hard to talk to him when he'd known them for a few days only, but when he thought about it, the people who'd sat at his table for most of the first month of school did the same thing. At least Thomas and Teresa were actually nice.

     He only had one question. When he was about to type in in to send it, another message from Teresa popped into his screen.

_I know you saw that, Wicked.  It says so on my phone. You know, you don't have to be scared of me and Tom. We're nice, we're not gonna dupe you, or whatever you think. I really do think you're cool, and I couldn't dupe you if I wanted to. I know I;m hot as hell, but I'm not a bitch about it. I don't have the popularity, or whatever._

     Newt nodded at that, surprised at how relieved it made him feel. Biting his lip, he started typing out an answer.

 _Good, that. I'm keen on getting duped._ Was all he typed, pressing send quickly before he could regret it, and sent in a second message as an afterthought.

_Just wonderin, how did you even get my number?"_

Teresa answered almost immediately. So fast, Newt thought she'd been typing it all along. 

 _I asked your mom @ school. She got rly excited, too. I think she thought we were gonna, like, make you cool. Which is stupid. Because we aren't cool._ Newt read the message and laughed, mostly because that was so undeniably his mom.. He could imagine her gasping in happiness and telling them his life story, no questions asked.

 _Yeah, sorry about that. My mom kinda sucks._ He sent the message, adding a second part.  _But about that question you wanted to ask..?_

     He waited for a minute, leaning over to pick up his book off of his comforter and putting it on his desk off to the side of the room. He sat down on the chair, and the phone started buzzing in his hand. He snapped his head down to read the message, and excitement flooded through him when he read an invitation.

_Do you like Milkshakes? Me and Tom are heading out to get some._

     Needless to say, he accepted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is appreciated! I've really loved writing this fic, and I hope you guys are enjoying reading it too. Thank you all so much for reading!
> 
> Also; Sorry for the lack of Newtmas thus far. I don't want to rush it or anything. I want to make it seem realistic so I apologize if this is boring you. I promise in the next few chapters somewhere they'll interact a lot more. Then you'll only have to wait for me to drag out the actual romantic relationship. Thanks agaiiin!


	6. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greasy burgers and milkshakes. Hella rebellious.

     "I'm sorry." Was the first thing Thomas said when him and Newt met in the parking lot. He had his hands up in the air, surrender showing clear on his face. Try as he might, Newt couldn't stop the smirk that fell on his face when he saw how scared Thomas looked of him. If he was anything, he wasn't a person to be terrified of.

     "Yeah? I just got here and we're already starting with the buggin' apologies, are we?" He stopped trudding towards the boy, arms crossed. When he caught sight of Thomas' shrug, accompanied by a slightly guilty smile, Newt nodded to himself. "Good that. What'd you do?"

     The boy was silent for a short moment, and Newt watched as his expression changed so many times, it was impossible to tell how he was feeling. To stall for time, the brunette reached behind his neck, scratching and looking behind him to the diner. Newt followed suit, getting a good look at the restaurant he'd agreed to meet Thomas and Teresa at. It was called Fran's, and judging by what he saw now, it was extremely old fashioned. The lighting was distinctively yellow, and the windows were long, running along the entire front wall. He saw a lot of checkered designs through them, which was what really set off the 50's vibe.

     Newt had never heard of the place, but it seemed nice, cozy. Teresa had told him that she went there all the time  _because_ it was so quiet, which he could respect. There was a wooden wind chime hanging by the front door, clunking together and leaving a constant, peaceful rhythm to loom over anyone that might be lingering. The smell of coffee and burgers lingered in the air, though not to strongly. To Newt, it was a nice smell, because burgers and fries were usually off limits to him. Maybe eating here was his little rebellion his mom had been begging for.

     He smiled at the thought, broken out of his trance when he saw Thomas turn back to him, a sheepish grin on his face.

     "Okay, first off, it was Teresa's idea," He started, throwing his hands up in a rush.  _Oh, joy._ Newt thought to himself impulsively, and Thomas continued. "She makes a lot of stupid decisions sometimes, because she wants to be, like, a motivational life speaker or something, and she tries to make people happy. She doesn't understand that sometimes people don't  _want_ her help."

     If anything, this just confused Newt more, and he raised a brow to let Thomas know. The shorter boy sighed, telling it to him straight.

     "She kind of...brought the whole group. She didn't want to tell you, 'cause she thought you wouldn't come." Thomas finished, a hand cupped on his neck.

     Newt couldn't help it--he tried to stop himself, but the whole situation was kind of funny, and as soon as it processed, Newt burst out laughing, throwing his head back and looking back to Thomas. "That's what you were so worried about?" He cocked a brow, smirking at him.

     Bright red flushed onto Thomas' cheeks, causing Newt to chuckle one more time when he shrugged.

     "Think of it as a kind of...initiation ritual." Thomas raised his voice as a motorcycle raced by. "Fran's is kind of our place. We take all of our new groupies here. Me and Tess started the tradition when we met and it just kind of...stuck." He shrugged again, which made Newt smile unknowingly, and he felt his throat go dry for a moment when he realized what was implied. He didn't think about his reply when he opened his mouth--he just said what came to his mind, and almost wanted to laugh at himself.

     "Y'sure you're not trying to dupe me? 'Cause I'm starting to get uneasy. I'm not big on the idea of getting pantsed in public." He shrugged, barely catching Thomas' small grin before he started talking again, shaking his head at first.

     "It's no big deal, really. There's only four of us in our group, and you already know me and Teresa. Sometimes Ben and Winston come too, but they usually hang out with their own group. Newt nodded understandingly, taking a step towards the restaurant, only to be stopped by Thomas.

     "Just so you know, before you go in, you're meeting two guys. The Asian one is Minho. He's big on sarcasm and just overall douchiness," Thomas said, and Newt cut him off with a snort.

     "You sure know how to rope a guy in, Tommy." He told the other boy. He wasn't sure if he'd imagined it, but he thought he'd seen the corner of his mouth perk up at the nickname. He'd probably imagined it.

     "Yeah, you and Minho will definitely get along." Thomas mocked a thoughtful nod.

     "What about the other one?" Newt pushed, genuinely curious.

     "Gally?" Thomas chewed on his cheek briefly, trying to think of what to say. "The only way I can really describe Gally is that he has diagonal eyebrows. You'll have to figure it out yourself." He finished, then started again with a head shake a moment later. "Y'know, I still haven't even figured him out, and it's been 3 years." He shrugged. "By the way, don't be freaked out by the weird slang they use--just try to ignore it. It's just...it's something Gladers do." When Newt responded with and ironic smirk, and he quickly added on, "It's a school thing. You'll catch on." And with that, the two boys turned, stepping into the diner.

     Of course, Newt had already heard all of the slang being tossed around the school, but Thomas didn't need to know that. He liked messing with him. He wasn't exactly sure why, but it gave him an immense amount of joy.

     Maybe it was because Thomas kind of reminded him of Rachel with the way he talked. He couldn't exactly be sure why, but he liked the sense of familiarity that came from him.

     As soon as the two stepped through the door, there were fists pounding on tables, and people cheering. Involuntarily, Newt felt his hand raise into the air by Thomas, making him feel like some sort of Olympian. Thomas, with his hand intertwined with Newt's, shaking them in the air, bowed, thanking the only three people sitting in the restaurant; Teresa, and two boys who were more than likely Minho and Gally, who Thomas had mentioned prior.

     It was the Asian one, Minho, Thomas had called him, who spoke first.

     "So, is this the famous Greenie everyone's goin' on about?" He asked in a booming voice, giving Newt the elevator eyes.  When his eyes met Newt's again, he let out a wolf whistle, an approving nod to accompany it. "You done good, kids." Newt watched, feeling awkward as the boy winked, not particularly directing it at anyone. Before Newt could say anything, the boy was standing in front of him, hand extended.

     What was dinner without a little awkwardness on Newt's part? He stood like an idiot, staring at the hand before him. It felt like he'd been standing there for hours when he realized that the boy wanted him to shake his hand, but not before he retracted it to his side.

     "Jeez, tough crowd." He grinned. "I know I'm intimidating with my dashing good looks and charm, but no need to seem so worried." He paused, flashing Newt a smile and holding his hands out beside him. "I'm Minho. Nice to meet ya." Newt gave him a smile when the other boy stood up.

     He looked just as awkward as Newt felt, and Thomas hadn't been kidding about the eyebrows. His lips were pressed together, and he lifted one of his arms, which had previously been glued to his side to give Newt a stiff wave.

     "Hey," The boy half smiled and offered a nod to Newt. "Sorry about him," He told Newt, gesturing to Minho on his left. "I swear, nobody else is as, uh,  _friendly_ as him. He's just...Minho." He shrugged. "And I'm Gally, by the way. And since none of these shanks bothered to give you a  _proper_ greeting," He paused, shooting a mock glare at the other three teens. "Welcome to The Glade I guess. I mean, we're not actually at school, but still. I'm glad to see a new Greenie." Gally flashed a full on smile, and offered Newt his seat in their booth, pulling up a chair instead to sit on.

 

     That was how the start of his evening went. 

     He wasn't exactly sure how all of this made him feel--he went through the night with laughs and just genuine...fun. It wasn't like anything he was used to, but The Gladers, as they kept referring to themselves, were being kind. It was too... _normal_ compared to what he was used to in Britan, and that was weird.

     For the first time since he could remember, he didn't feel like an outsider. Sure, he'd just met these people, but they took him in almost immediately. He didn't feel out of place at all. In fact, it was kind of funny. Even the waitress--Sonya, her name tag said--was really nice. She sat at their table and talked to them whenever she could, and seeing as they were the only ones in the restaurant, he saw her quite often. When he'd mentioned something about his mom and her crappy food,  she told him to hold on a minute and disappeared into the kitchen. After a few minutes, she came back out and placed a pile of onion rings and a milkshake in a glass bigger than his head in front of him.

     "A life without good food is not a life worth living." She'd simply told him, sitting back down.

     So he sat for he didn't know how long, eating the most unhealthy meal of his life until his phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans, saying his mom was calling him, and he looked at the clock parallel the room to him to see what time it was, 10:18

     "Shit." Newt muttered, shooting up from the booth. The group started asking what was wrong, and he waved it off.

     "I kinda stole my mum's car to come here. I forgot to keep track of time, and I'm guessing she just got home and saw it missing." He told them, saying some quick goodbyes and thanking them for being so nice. Then he popped out of the diner in a hurry, rushing through the parking lot towards his car.

     He had his hand ready to open the door when Thomas stepped out of the building.

     "Hey, Newt?" He asked, cocking a brow up. Newt only shot his head up in answer and Thomas continued. "We'll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future, right?" The brunette asked, kind of shyly.

     Newt didn't know if it was the way Thomas was looking at him so hopefully, or the fact that he'd actually had fun with his friends tonight, but something in his chest erupted, and a warm feeling spread through him like red hot lava, in his veins, his limbs, everywhere. He gave Thomas a smile and nodded, pulling the car open.

     "Yeah, I sure hope so, Tommy." 

     And with that, he dropped into the car, driving down the road towards his house.

     For some reason, though, he couldn't stop smiling. For the entire ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in the background, Minho yells "Just shuckin' kiss already!"
> 
> Thank you again for reading even if this is extremely anti-climactic. It means the world to me and I wanna kiss all of you. I finally got to write Minho. This is it. I am so happy. This is what I was born for.
> 
> Also; In case you were wondering, yes. This story would be more similar to the actual book if Thomas was in Newt's role. Would I change it if I could write it again? Nope. Not a chance.  
> I simply think Newt's character is better for the role, what with "getting out" and having a crappy life. I also don't want the parallels to be so much that it seems cheesy. I'm focusing on the background parallels. Just wanted to put that out there, 'cause I had some friends asking me. 
> 
> Thank you again, I love all of you! Feedback appreciated, as always!
> 
> xx Rheanne


	7. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> depressingly sweet

"You sure you don't wanna come tomorrow?" Minho was wrinkling his nose as the group walked through the halls, navigating the way towards the exit. "It's your last chance to change your mind." His tone of voice was singsong, and Newt shook his head with a smile.

     "Nah." He shrugged. The group was ditching school to go snowboarding for the day. Apparently they did it once every few months or so for a day off. "I told you, 'm not a snowboarder. I'm fine with sitting here alone and avoiding people." Newt gave a mini snort, shrugging at the same time. When he finished, Teresa skirted up beside him. She leaned close to him, wearing a smirk before answering him in a singsong voice.

     "You know, you could still come. You could be our designated cheerleader." She told him, drawing out every syllable, causing Newt to laugh lightly, still shaking his head over replying. Teresa sighed, muttering a small exaggerated 'whatever' and pulling away. He stood in the middle of the group, navigating through the crowd of tired students. They were making small conversation, moving along with the flow, and Newt almost got down on his knees in prayer when they got outside and the group split up slightly.

     Then, caught off guard, Newt stopped, feeling frozen. The group stopped too after a moment, turning to look at him in confusion.

     "Newt?" Thomas cocked his head to the side, and Newt could feel the four pairs of eyes boring into him. "What's up?"

     Newt wanted to answer, he really did, but no matter how hard he tried, every part of him fought against it. His body was felt in stone. He felt like there were millions of tiny spiders crawling up him, webbing him in a sheet of of. It was impossible to move. He had his mouth hanging open, and his eyes were solely focused on someone in the crowd.

     It was a boy, tall and dark skinned. He had his arms crossed, and if you couldn't tell by his height, his demeanor showed that he was a few years older than the high schoolers. His back was turned to Newt, giving him a clear view of the army suit he was wearing, camo upon camo. He tried telling himself to be rational-- _I_ _t can't possibly be him. He was just drafted out, there's no way he came for a visit already.--_ he kept telling himself, but his body didn't register him. Ice was still rushing through his veins, to his fingertips and back, freezing every cell of his body. 

     While he was watching the man stand on his toes and peek around the crowd, Minho inched closer to him, hand lightly touching his forearm.

     "Come on, Newt. Just...answer someone. Blink or something. We just want..." Gally tried this time, and stopped when Newt blinked. 

     The spiders continued, climbing up his throat on a mission to paralyze him. Every second, a new particle was frozen, each one colder than the last. He registered the group inching ever closer, obviously worried, but they weren't saying anything this time. It was Thomas who caught his eye first, and followed his line of sight to the man in the crowd. The other's did the same, and Thomas cracked, asking.

     "Newt, do you know that guy?" Thomas was confused, and Newt fought with all of his strength, pushing against the ice as hard as he could. It felt like his throat had exploded when he forced out a strained sentence.

     "Yeah...I mean...No, I don't know." He pressed his lips together, looking to see the boys face, with no luck.

     "Okay, well..." Gally started, but Newt cut him off when he saw the man turn slightly, giving him a glance at his features, confirming his suspicions, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Gally threw his fingertips on Newt shoulder. "Hey, what--" Newt didn't hear the rest of what the boy said. He pushed his way through the group, feeling the coldness in his veins melt away, only to be overcome by fire. A grin spread across his face so wide, his cheeks started to hurt, but he just  _couldn't_ wipe it away.

     He was pushing through the parking lot as fast as his bugged leg would allow him, and he couldn't take the excitement anymore. He tipped his chin up, to project his voice, and shouted.

     "Alby!" There was a laugh behind his voice, and Newt watched as Alby whipped around. It didn't feel real until they made eye contact, and Newt waved quickly. Alby rushed towards him, making better progress running than Newt had been running, and when they reached each other, Newt was wrapped in a quick hug.

     "What are you doin' here?" He felt his eyes bulging out of his skull, but he couldn't help it. Alby laughed at him, shrugging quickly before answering,

     "I got a little time off. You couldn't expect me to  _not_ visit my howling commando." Alby winked, gripping Newt by the shoulder and shaking it shortly. "Sorry for the short warning. Really short. I didn't want to get your hopes up and then have my plans cancelled. Besides, it's always fun surprising you. You get all jumpy, and you completely wig out." He joked, and Newt rolled his eyes.

     "Ah, slim it, Alby. I'm just glad that you're here." He smiled, and saw confusion run across his friends face just as Teresa ran up beside him, alongside the other Gladers. 

     "Hi." She said to Alby, a little bit breathlessly. She smiled at him and extended his hand. "Teresa, it's nice to meet you..?" She asked, looking for his name. Alby put another smile on, though it was different from his last one. He gripped Teresa's hand and shook it firmly before pulling away.

     "Alby." He peered over to the other Gladers and looked back to Newt, a question in his eyes. 

     "Oh!" He nodded, turning to his--what? Friends? "This is Alby, evidently. He's my best friend from back in England. Actually, my only friend from England, but you know. Whatever. And Alby," He countered, turning to the man. "These are...They're the Gladers, I guess." He shrugged, addressing each of them quickly. Alby nodded, and Thomas was first to break the awkwardness that was starting to settle.

     "So," He gestured to Alby's outfit, looking him up and down. "You in the army, huh?" He asked quickly, and Alby nodded. Before he could say anything, Thomas spoke again. "What's it like out there? What's your job?"

     "It's not nice, as I'm sure you can imagine. I don't even have words to describe the things we see out there, especially being an officer. But I signed up for this, and I don't regret it. It has to be done, and I have no right to do nothing." He swallowed and looked down, and Newt saw Thomas nodding from the corner of his eye.

     "Well, look, you're not even from my country, but I'm glad you're fighting. It takes a lot of bravery to do that, so thank you, even if it isn't for us." This caused Newt to smile--he wasn't sure why, but he did. He looked at Thomas to show him, and saw that Thomas was already looking at him. They made eye contact, and Newt nodded, feeling his smile grow slightly. He didn't realize that the others were staring at them until Minho groaned behind him.

     "Get a  _room,_ you two." He said in an exasperated tone, causing the two to look away, and Newt felt his face get hot while Thomas laughed with Minho. He seemed to notice Alby still standing with them and stopped, clearing his throat. It was silent for a moment before Thomas spoke up.

     "I'm assuming you're getting a ride together, yeah?" He asked, and Newt looked to Alby, who grinned and nodded. "Alright. See you...whenever, I guess. I'll let you have your...reunion, I guess." He shrugged, only the ghost of a smile on his face and waved, heading towards the buses with the other Gladers. The two boys watched for a moment before Alby turned and pulled Newt to a car in the parking lot.

     "That was kinda..." He started, but trailed off and Newt nodded.

     "Yeah, sorry, it's just...I've never really had to introduce people before. I made it weird." He cocked his head to the side, throwinf it off. "But whatever. I'm just happy I get to see you." He told him, and it was true. He never knew when he could see Alby--He was drafted off to the Army only a few weeks before Newt left, and he hadn't gotten to say goodbye. Those were probably the worst weeks of his life, sitting and waiting. Alby had always been the only person who got him through things. He never cared about how weird or different Newt was, and Newt would always be thankful for that.

     "Imagine how happy I am, then. This is a real nice change from where I've been." He chuckled, but Newt could tell he'd only been half joking. "And now I get to spend two whole days with you." He smiled, and this time, Newt knew he meant it, so he returned one.

     So they drove around town, mostly talking, and Newt hadn't realized, really, how much he'd missed Alby until now. He truly was his best friend.

     

He woke up the next morning to Alby shaking his shoulder lightly.

     "Hey! Wake up, alright? I'm gonna sneak you out of the house." He whispered, pulling Newt out of his sleep. Newt groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes as if to shield them from light, even though there was none. Alby sighed, walking over to the light switch. "Don't make me turn this on. We probably don't have much time before your mom wakes up." 

     "Alright, alright. Slim it with the bloody threats, alright?" He involuntarily yawned, speaking in a slurred voice. "What are you goin' on about?" 

     "We're going out for breakfast. You're starting to look like a starving skeleton, so I'm taking you to the Waffle House, my treat." He sounded proud of himself, and his tone of voice caused Newt to sit up and roll his eyes,

     "I can't. I have school." Was his answer. Rude, maybe, but he'd woken him up when he could've gotten 30 more minutes of sleep. That deserved rudeness, best friend or not. He only earned a head shake from Alby for it.

     "I took care of that, don't worry." Alby smiled. "Your mom said she's fine with you not going, as long as we don't do anything stupid. I asked her last night. I just think avoiding questions about what we're gonna do is smart. Questions are pointless." He shrugged, and leaned forward to swat Newt. "Now get up and get dressed, and we'll be out of here." He declared and, eventually, Newt got up and got ready, partially against his will. 

     His day from that point went on smoothly. He went bowling with Alby, played one-on-one paintball, overall just having fun. They went back to his house for lunch to get his phone that he'd left in his bedroom and snorted when he saw that he'd gotten multiple messages from Teresa's phone.

     She'd sent him five selfies--One of the four of them crammed in a taxi, making kissy faces, one of her giving him a thumbs up with Minho sitting on her lap--that one made him laugh. There was another, which had Gally getting fitted to his snowboard in the background, looking ridiculous and flipping the camera off. Another with the three boys, all of them giving him a sarcastic smile and a final one, with Teresa and Thomas on the lift, both doing the slybrow. Under all of the images, there was the caption "Wish you were here!" With several heart emoji's tacked on the end. Newt chuckled and shook his head, typing a quick reply and heading back to Alby. 

     For the rest of the day, they sat, watching cartoons, and Newt even showed him the few pieces of artwork he'd done since moving, earning some praise from him. He occasionally texted Teresa, but he directed his attention to Alby, for the most part. All was fine, until he received a message from Teresa that was kind of worrying.

      _Uh-oh._ Was all it said. Reading it, Newt furrowed his brow, looking down to it. 

      _What's up?_ He responded. trying to repress the worry that was flooding through him. It seemed like an eternity before Teresa answered him, though it was really only a few minutes.

      _Well, I'm sure it's nothing, really. You shouldn't worry. It's just that Tom kind of...slipped getting off of the lift, and he has to go to the Hospital. They think he has a concussion. Don't worry, though! He's okay. We're just heading to the Hospital now. Do you want me to text you updates?_ When he finished reading, Newt muttered an 'oh no'.

      _Yeah, of course._ He typed, but looked over to Alby, who was sitting beside him, before pressing send. Alby must have read the question and worry in his eyes, because he only nodded, standing up from the couch. He grabbed the keys to the car and headed outside, while Newt finished his message.  _I'll see you there, five minutes sound good?_

      And without looking for an answer, Newt stood up, rushing to the car, heading for the Hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nalby :'))))) The ultimate bromance.
> 
> That is all.
> 
> Feedback appreciated!


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